


Skank/Badboy

by jettacubed (Isteskunst)



Category: Glee
Genre: BadBoy!Blaine, Klaine week 2013, M/M, Skank!Kurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 04:21:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isteskunst/pseuds/jettacubed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble for the second day of Klaine Week 2013: Skank/Badboy. </p>
<p>Blaine is a badboy (kind of) who has a crush on the skank who works at the local pet store.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skank/Badboy

Blaine’s dog was completely spoiled. He had premium food -- actually, multiple kinds of premium food: dehydrated raw, frozen raw, freeze-dried raw, grain free, limited ingredient -- and a dozen different supplements to put in it. He had a closet full of squeaky stuffed animals and a floor full of hard chew toys (that hurt like a bitch whenever Blaine, barefoot, had the misfortune to step on one). He had no fewer than four different patterned collars (purple leopard print, red plaid, black with blue flames, pink with the emblazened word “DIVA”), all with their own matching leash and harness. Blaine had lost count of the sheer amount of treats he’d purchased in the last few weeks. 

Blaine’s dog was spoiled. He had spent a small fortune at Buddy’s Pet Shop, his parents thought he was a dog-obsessed psycho, Mr. Snuggles the pug was getting tired of being forced into new outfits, and it was all Kurt Hummel’s fault. 

“Is this going to be it for you today?” Kurt asked, side-eyeing the random collection of odds and ends Blaine had haphazardly tossed into his basket. Most of the men who worked at the store wore maroon vests; Kurt, apparently, had rebelled (presumably because the maroon would clash with the hot pink streak in his hair) and wore a black apron instead. 

Blaine made a grunting sound of affirmation. He resisted the temptation to nervously run a hand through his Danny Zuko-style slicked-back hair -- badboys don’t get nervous over silly things like buying pet supplies from cute boys, he repeated to himself silently. 

Kurt stared at him with one (pierced) eyebrow raised. “We have some lovely probiotics on sale this month,” he said in a monotone. Blaine had watched him (not creepily) with other customers and this wasn’t how he acted with them. With other customers, Kurt was all smiles and cheerful helpfulness. The first time Blaine had come in, that’s how Kurt acted with him, too -- to a degree, at least. He had recognized Blaine from school and Blaine could tell that made him a little self-conscious, but he had valiantly talked him through the ins and outs of proper dog hygiene with a (slightly forced) smile. Now that Blaine had come in once a day for the past three weeks, it seemed that Kurt had given up on the good-customer-service facade. 

Blaine made another grunt and Kurt plopped the bag down on the counter with the rest of Blaine’s purchases. 

“Studies have found that bee pollen has a lot of health benefits,” Kurt said with no inflection, holding up a package that clearly was meant for birds. Blaine felt like he was being challenged. 

Making eye contact, he nodded for Kurt to add the pollen to his pile. One of Kurt’s coworkers -- a girl with a giant bow in her hair -- watched the interaction with what seemed to be avid fascination. She snapped her (probably illicit in the workplace) gum and Kurt shot her a dirty look. 

“Here are some catnip treats,” Kurt said, returning his eyes to Blaine, dropping a pink bag of cat treats onto the counter. 

Blaine shrugged. Kurt stared at him. 

“Do you even have a cat?” he asked, judgement evident in his voice. 

“No,” Blaine said. “How much?”

Shaking his head, Kurt rang up the small pile. “$65.96, please.” The girl whistled. 

Blaine handed his credit card over. Kurt bagged up the stuff -- half of which Mr. Snuggles would absolutely hate -- and handed it over. “Have a nice day,” he said. The “you crazy weirdo” was silent but implied. 

“You too,” Blaine said, and awkwardly saluted the boy. Kurt and the girl stared at him. He hurried out of the shop, too embarrassed to care about demonstrating his badboy swagger. 

Safe in his car, Blaine looked through the bag sighed. One of these days, he’s either gonna have to actually ask Kurt Hummel out or go broke trying. 

***

Blaine smelled him before he saw him. Blaine had his eyes closed, a cigarette in his hand, as he leaned against the hood of his beat-up car. He was supposed to be in class -- AP Physics, actually -- but one of the key elements of being a badboy was not showing up to approximately 25 - 50% of his classes. He was enjoying the feeling of sunshine on his face when the distinct scent of citrus cologne and clove cigarettes caught his attention. 

“Hummel,” he said, squinting his eyes open to look at him. 

Kurt stood there, shock of pink hair neatly styled, long red plaid shirt open and tied around a white tank top. His jeans, adorned with no fewer than five not-matching belts and hidden below the knee by vintage combat boots, were gloriously tight. He crossed his arms across his chest and gave Blaine a judgmental look. 

“What the hell is your problem, Anderson?” he asked, eyebrow imperiously high. 

“Not enough love in my childhood?” he guessed. Kurt narrowed his eyes and Blaine wondered if he’d caught the Chicago reference or if he just thought Blaine was strangely honest. 

“Not enough brains in your overly-gelled head, more like,” Kurt bit out, shifting uncomfortably. “Why do you come into my store every single day? Do you even have any pets or do you just enjoy making me wait on you?” 

“Mr. Snuggles is very high-maintenance,” Blaine replied, closing his eyes again and flicking the ash from his cigarette. 

“Mr. Snuggles.” Blaine didn’t have to be looking at him to know that Kurt was judging him. 

“Mr. Snuggles,” he repeated. “Maybe I’ll bring him in sometime. Fit him for a new jacket.”

“You’ve already bought five!” 

Blaine cracked his eyes open. “You remember what I bought?” 

Kurt flushed a little, but maintained eye contact. “Of course I do. You’re a crazy person. You’ve bought half the store. You are both crazy and stupid.”

Blaine shrugged. “Everything’s relative.”

“No,” Kurt shook his head slowly. “No, from every perspective you’re pretty much crazy and stupid.” 

Well, okay. Blaine stretched his arms above his head and arched his back, looking straight at Kurt. The other boy blushed and looked away. 

“It’s been fun,” he said, putting the cigarette out under the motorcycle boots he spent a whole week combing through thrift stores to find. “See you tonight, babe.”

“Babe --?” Kurt sputtered, but Blaine had already slipped into his car and was starting the engine. Maybe he really would bring Mr. Snuggles in tonight. He had a feeling that Kurt would look amazing holding his indignant, pug-shaped baby.


End file.
